Fervor of the Pokemon World
by litill Hnappur
Summary: Secrets are hard to keep in small spaces,and destructive when they're released. A multi-setting fiction with an arrange of MxM Pokemon pairings. Gijinka style. Rated M for cumulative content.
1. Introduction

For the purpose of this work all characters are human personifications of Pokémon, a reserved form of Gijinka. While the average Gijinka straddles the line between cosplay and anthro, in the following article displays of color, clothing, or irregularities of the skin and hair will be utilized to demonstrate that they are, in fact, Pokémon.

To put it simply; with the exemption of the occasional inhuman power granted by their individual elements; the Pokémon in this work are represented in human forms.

The Pokémon within are interconnected, as if in a community where there is only one of each Pokémon: and that Pokémon is known by name.

The Starters of each regions will be reoccurring, making them a form of protagonists.

Several episodes will switch between POV of different Pokemon pairings, however the plot line is continuing.

Individual Chapter summaries will be included.

Lastly; this fiction will have a MxM focus, but responds to input from the reader and query to particular pairings.

Requests will ultimately be considered.

Chapter one will debut with Kanto starters, which I'll be presenting shortly.

Enjoy.


	2. Wartortle, Ivysaur and Charmeleon

_An introduction to the Kanto Trio, Content of this chapter includes Yaoi, Aggressive sex, and heavy, irrepressible sarcasm._

* * *

><p>Charmeleon rolled over in bed; his eyes glued shut with sleep. He sensed light: enough to drown in. Even in his half-awake state he recalled shutting his curtains tight. He shifted on his back and slowly opened his eyes. It was blatantly daylight; his shades were drawn and his window open to the suburb below. He leered forward and sat up, his back aching. There was one explanation for this.<p>

He launched himself into the living room without recovering his clothes, standing defiantly with arms akimbo in the doorway.

"Ivysaur," He growled. The grass type looked up with an innocent expression from that morning's paper, his breakfast still fresh from the stovetop.

"Charmeleon," He said guiltlessly, "Good morning."

The fire type sat himself down across from Ivysaur, one arm bent to grip the backboard. He smiled menacingly.

"So what, is blameless the new smug?" He asked through grit teeth. Ivysaur gave a sigh as if he was so very weary of Charmeleon's shenanigans. He set folded his paper and put his hands on top of them.

"You're so irritable," Ivysaur remarked, "Everything upsets you."

"You upset me," Charmeleon returned swiftly.

"I thought you could use a little fresh air."

_So he knew exactly what this was about._

The fire type looked down for a few moments and gathered a smile as if it were an impossible effort to be polite to the grass type.

"Ivysaur, my good friend," He clucked, "It's funny, really how you don't know this yet."

Ivysaur's face was indifferent as he waited for his insult.

"But- the whole sun and water and fresh air thing? That's for _grass_ types and wow-" He stood up and gave a huge sarcastic grin, "This is sorta nuts, I know, but I think I'm a _fire _type. Oh gosh, where are my manners. Hi, my name is Charmeleon, we met a year back, remember that?" Ivysaur opened his mouth to retort, but Charmeleon was faster.

"Alright buddy, it was great seeing you again," He said, "but I have to acquaint myself with Wartortle now: he's not going to take the news well. You know, that I'm a fire type."

Ivysaur stood up and bared his teeth as he spoke through them,

"The gesture was harmless Charmeleon. I was looking after you."

Charmeleon laughed as if this were genuinely funny,

"Alright, pal. I'm going off, this has been fun," he said.

Ivysaur put his head down and tried to ignore the racket Charmeleon made as he searched for his clothes. The Lizard was known to wander the house nonchalantly in his underclothes, a habit that Ivysaur was not very fond of. Wartortle, their third roommate, didn't care much for how either of them conducted themselves. He was out most of the time and easygoing or not, he didn't have to confront them if he didn't want to.

The door opened at that point, which meant their visitor had a key. Ivysaur craned to see the doorway and spotted the water-type himself, accompanied by two armfuls of groceries. He glanced once towards Charmeleon who was stumbling into a pair of blue-jeans and then into the kitchen at his friend Ivysaur.

"Everything alright, Ive?" He asked, setting the brown paper bags on the counter. Ivysaur took a deep breath to center himself.

"Yeah, everything's stellar," he said.

Charmeleon reappeared in the doorway and smirked,

"Tort, Hey," he said.

Wartortle smiled casually in return and took his place behind Ivysaur. He gripped both his shoulders, kneading them carelessly.

"Mel," Wartortle said slowly, "You been giving Ivysaur here a hard time?"

Charmeleon chortled. He was exceptionally skilled at convincing someone they'd said something honestly ridiculous.

"I would say the opposite," he laughed.

Wartortle continued to work the grass-type, his expression unchanging. He smiled slowly without replying and departed to put away his groceries. Ivysaur furrowed his brow a bit, watching the water type move about. Through his peripheral, he could tell Charmeleon was looking too. The lizard didn't like what he was looking at.

It surprised Ivysaur to sense hostility between them; he'd known them both for casual attitudes: especially towards each other.

Anxious of confrontation, he stood up and left.

* * *

><p>The trio wouldn't see one another until dark came and drew them all to the flickering box they considered nighttime entertainment. The reception was terrible, and the content boring but none of them could complain; this was as good as it got. They crammed themselves together on the sofa watching a cooking show featuring Poffins and the culinary duo of Chansey and Lickitung. The pudgy pair walked the audience step by step through the production of a pecha poffin as if their broadcast targeted children. Charmeleon was falling asleep.<p>

Wartortle had struck his usual carless pose, with both his feet up on the coffee table and one arm strewn behind the couch. Though his eyes were fixated on the screen, his thoughts were elsewhere.

Ivysaur, lastly, was focused entirely on the program, the labels of the ingredients adhering themselves to his brain. This would probably be what he dreamt of that night

He reached over and shook Wartortle's leg, which snapped him back to reality. He stretched and gave a wide yawn, displaying his two conspicuous fangs and falling back into place on the couch.

"It's sorta late, huh?" He asked, his eyes centering lethargically back on the television. Ivysaur nodded, his teal hair falling a bit in his eyes. He was too tried to bother with it. Wartortle gave a careless groggy smile and reached over to pinch Ivysaur's cheek playfully.

The leaf type as usual maintained a rigid demeanor.

"I'm going to bed, ok?" He said, patting the turtle's shoulder and standing up. Wartortle looked up at him through scattered sky colored locks. Though his playful expression bordered on seductive, Ivysaur was immune, and he prepared to depart. "Goodnight, Tor." He said.

Fond of the nickname, Wartortle smiled. It was refreshing; Tort sounded dull on his ears.

"Say, Ive," He murmured, pulling on his coyest smile. "I know you hate sharing a room with Charmeleon."

Ivysaur paused in the doorway watching his companion with a vaguely confused expression.

"You could always stay with me."

Ivysaur considered the water-type slowly, and frowned. He wondered if Wartortle was even awake anymore.

"Goodnight, Wartortle,"he said plainly.

He was, as usual, was utterly oblivious.

* * *

><p>Morning came and Ivysaur rose with the sun. Through the curtains it was aggravatingly muted, so, as he did every morning, he drew them. The light flooded in like liquid gold, sharpening the details of the messy room to an uncomfortable degree. Ivysaur, while neat, was not compulsively so and let Charmeleon get the best of the room. He lay back down slowly into his sheets, enjoying how cool they were in contrast to the warmth of the sun and just tried to forget his surroundings.<p>

He heard the sound of Charmeleon shifting in bed; no doubt reacting to the announcement that daytime had arrived. Ivysaur really hated to be around when he woke up, so he sat up. His favorite shirt, a green thing adorned with the faint form of dark triangles, was missing. He furrowed his brow as he surveyed the area- he remembered very clearly placing it on the back of his desk chair. He slipped out of his blankets and began to search more thoroughly. Internally convinced there was no way it could have left the room, he spent a good deal of time and energy filing about.

This was enough time, of course, for Charmeleon to wake up. The sound of his annoyance was clear and immediate.

"_Ivysaur…"_ He murmured as if he didn't know he was in the room. The Fire type spent a moment concentrating his abhorrence into a fine point before he sat up. The grass type looked over his shoulder, and blushed hard. He had a much higher sense of civility than Charmeleon, and being caught on his knees with no shirt on was more than he'd ever have wanted him to see.

The reptile met and kept his gaze with an indifferent air, leaning on his elbows with one eyebrow suspiciously raised.

Ivysaur snatched a t-shirt hanging from his bureau and departed, no longer caring for the lost article. He forced his new shirt on while making his way to the kitchen, glancing around as if he were afraid he had been followed. He sat down haphazardly at the kitchen table, the old thing complaining under his wait and tilting on its hinge. He rested his head on the cool wood for a moment, staring at the small slab of glass that someone tried to disguise as a window with saccharine yellow curtains. He felt a hard smack against his back that was too rough to be Wartortle. He choked a bit in his surprise and jerked upright, flinging a leer about him until they made eye contact.

"You alright, Ive?" Charmeleon chuckled, taking a seat beside him. Ivysaur watched the lizard distrustfully. After a moment of silent, he relented with a sigh,

"I'm fine, Mel," He said, watching his fingers as they drummed along the dark worn surface. "Just tired. I was up late last night."

Charmeleon snickered and stretched, his smile as impish and dishonest as always. Something on his face said he was discrediting Ivysaur's alibi, even _accusing_ him of underhanded activity. Ivysaur stared at him, anxious for elaboration.

"What?" He demanded defensively "I was with you two the entire time."

"Oh?" Yawned the fire type, "I was half-asleep the second I hit the sofa. I have _no_ idea what you did with your free time last night."

Though the implications of this sentence were vague at best, Ivysaur found it within himself to be offended.

"Charmeleon." He said firmly, "I was with Wartortle and you on that couch; I was watching the PokePoffin channel the entire time."

Charmeleon shook his head as if he thought his grass type companion incredibly dense.

"_Asleep_," He reminded him, "That means neither Wartortle nor yourself had to have stayed in that room. I wouldn't have noticed a thing…" Charmeleon's look was accusing.

Ivysaur was taken aback. His ruby eyes narrowed with the charge of these words, his face mirroring his distaste. Wartortle had been his friend since the two of them were pre-evolved, he couldn'tthink of him that way… and it was insulting that Charmeleon did.

He stood up and turned on his heel, no longer wanting to share space with him. The lizard, as always, was fast. His hand shot out and clasped onto Ivysaur's wrist with a painful measure of force. Startled, he winged around and grasped at Charmeleon's fingers, frightened by the suddenness of this advance.

Charmeleon stood up with his eyes wickedly calm, moving so smoothly it was if he were gliding when he moved to eye-level with the grass type.

"I know," He of the slightness of distance between them. He attempted first to form coherent thoughts that he was positive would turn into devastatingly witty retorts, but even his mind had closed up. In situations such as these, Ivysaur's first instinct was to shut off.

Charmeleon slammed his palms into his chest and pushed him hard into the old kitchen table. He gasped, the wind knocked out of him, and stared: forgetting to struggle. The fire type crossed his arms and planted his elbows firmly on his opposite's chest. He leaned down directly overhead, his red hair hanging in a frame around his face and accentuating his threatening smile.

"Why haven't you and I gotten to know each other better before now?" Asked Charmeleon as if in everyday conversation. Ivysaur continued to gape upward, absolutely frozen, his eyes lurid in their panic. Giving no response, the fire Pokémon continued; "It's not like we haven't had opportunities," He said, fabricating an expression of grief. "You and I, sharing such a slight amount of space all this time…"

Ivysaur at that moment seemed to remember his strength, and thrashed out of Charmeleon's grip. The lizard retreated and put his hands up defensively, giving a relenting smile. "Alright, alright," he said, "I get it. You're sick of playing around: you want me." Ivysaur froze with an expression of alarm on his face. He was speaking nonsense now. The fire type responded to this hesitance with his typical agility and pinned him against the wall with the force of a Slam Attack. He writhed for a moment, putting in only half of his strength; shock diluting his resolve.

Charmeleon leaned in dreadfully close to the leaf type and whispered so near to his ear it gave him an uncontrollable chill.

_You want me to ravage you. You always have._

Ivysaur was nearly limp in his enemies grip, overwhelmed by the intensity of the allegation pointed against him. He didn't hear the other Pokémon consciously enough to contradict him. Whether he knew it or not, he was very easily overpowered. Ivysaur, as he were, was terribly compliant when inundated.

Charmeleon leaned in and pressed their bodies together, as he continued to whisper terrible nothings into Ivysaur's ear, telling him what exactly he wanted done to him. The fire type smelled strongly of smoke and ash, an alarming fragrance for a plant type to take in with the entirety of each breath. It subdued him. He let Charmeleon tell him what he wanted. He even started to believe him.

The fire-type brought his lips hazardously close to Ivysaur's neck, his breath unusually hot. He hovered there, breathing in rhythm with his victim, forcing him to realize that there _was_ a rhythm. Charmeleon skimmed his throat with his teeth, pausing to graze the skin with his tongue. It seemed the inside of the reptile's mouth was searing, and dragging fire wherever it touched. Ivysaur took a shaky breath, becoming unaware. He reviled this Pokémon, hated him even: but it didn't matter in the slightest with this reptile advancing on him like this.

He was quick and dexterous when it came to undoing buckles and buttons. Somewhere inside of him, the grass-type knew that this meant he was practiced. The lizard's hand explored Ivysaur's torso, sliding his shirt up to his chest. Charmeleon's indifference was melting- he'd hate to get in over his head with this guy, but his _scent_… The fire-type smothered his face in his neck and breathed in deep. _Positively fragrant…_

He had to move faster, if he didn't make Ivysaur his and quickly he was going to lose it. He grabbed the leaf-type by his ruffled shirt and tossed him back to the kitchen table. He laughed inwardly at how much it was going to creak.

Ivysaur, jolted, coughed. His back hurt noticeably where it had connected with the table. Charmeleon didn't leave him time to think about it; he was upon him immediately like the predator he was. He granted Ivysaur a single careless kiss before he had his pants off and shirt up, his eyes gleaming in their haste. Ivysaur rolled his glazed eyes upwards and over Charmeleon. _His eyes are such a clear crystal blue,_ Was the solitary thought that entered his mind._ And the rest of him- so spontaneous and red. Why are his eyes blue?_

This was the last thing he'd managed to think before Charmeleon's own jeans were around his ankles. He straddled Ivysaur's hips, getting a grip by digging his nails uncomfortably deep into his skin. Ivysaur winced a bit through his haze and gripped at the sides of the table, only faintly recognizing where he was. The coolness of the smooth wood was always familiar to him and in heavy contrast to his own balmy flesh.

The reptile's dick was throbbing in anticipation, drabbles of precum oozing in a ribbon off the head and onto the table. The sight of Ivysaur helpless in his grasps was marvelously arousing. Control returned to him, Charmeleon remembered his patience. He nudged the glistening tip of his erection against Ivysaur's backside, evoking a distraught drone of protest from him. He supplied a morsel of pressure, sustaining utter demand of the grass type with his nails beginning in to scrape into his exposed flank. For the first time, Ivysaur seemed to acknowledge him, his eyes flickering downward and meeting gaze with his. Charmeleon held that contact with an almost cruel indifference, tightening his grip and relaxing his brow. He would let Ivysaur think this mattered nothing to him. With a forceful thrust he buried his dick mid-shaft, powering through the resistance Ivysaur's body met him with. From there he retracted, slowly, gaining leverage through position and thrust again. This time he met the grass-type's haunches with his own hips, creating a satisfying thump from the connection. He wouldn't let Ivysaur catch his breath. He drove into him gaining velocity with each strike, generating an intense friction that was driving Ivysaur further into a sex-induced haze. This just meant Charmeleon could do whatever he wanted to him.

Yet, his body was responding to his attacker involuntarily, his hips heaving against him and his chest shuddering with uneven breath. He was letting off an intoxicating aroma, an exaggerated replica of his natural scent. Charmeleon was too consumed to recognize this as a trait exclusive to dual poison-grass types. Without knowing it, he was getting as drunk as Ivysaur.

His mind stumbled and his body took over, waves of vigor rejuvenating him when he was sure his energy must be waning. He was relentless. Ivysaur was clutching the edge of the table hard enough for the unpolished wood underneath to splinter into his nails, and the skin on his hips was well past broken. Neither of them noticed.

Charmeleon's game had intensified, and he'd done just what he'd feared: he was in over his head. Even worse, he was losing control. At the time, of course, this mattered absolutely nothing to him. The impulse to make full use of every fragment of Ivysaur's convulsing body consumed him; he was conscious enough to feel every hot inch of his partner's flesh resist him, but entirely unaware of anything else.

He was nearly to his own limit; which encouraged him. His hips slammed rapidly against the leaf-type's flank, cramming in the entirety of his glistening dick. He could feel Ivysaur tensing in his grasps, his every muscle coiling until he was taut entirely. He gripped at his hips with unprecedented strength- gritting his teeth at the sudden flesh vice Ivysaur had become. The Leaf type's back curved to a steep arc as he came onto his own chest. The jet of pure, white liquid was in dubious amounts: and it painted him from chin to abdomen. This really set Charmeleon off. He remembered all the scowls, the pointed looks, the damn petty arguments over trivial things when he looked at this face: and now he was absolutely subjugated and covered in his own fluids. He gave a vigorous, unabridged shove inward and shuddered, bowing over his the Seed Pokémon and baring his teeth, shoulders rigid and eyes clenched.

He filled Ivysaur in directly; and being a fire-type, his bodily fluids were startlingly warm. Ivysaur stared at the ceiling, his eyes half lidded, struggling for breath with no luck. He groggily brought up one of his hands to pull at his collar as if it would help. Charmeleon banged his hands down on the table and took a deep breath, his chest rising steeply with the intake.

He pulled out, and stumbled backwards, weak in the knees. He caught balance against the wall and tugged on his pants silently. The sweat dripping from his cheeks and the absolute disordered state of his hair were the only testaments he would make to what he'd just dont. Ivysaur forced himself upwards, clenching his fists slowly inward. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but as always; Charmeleon was quicker. He bridged the distance between them with tripping only mildly, and grabbed a fistful of Ivysaur's hair, forcing him to tilt his chin upwards. He kissed his exposed neck once, and then whispered;

_What did I tell you?_


	3. Cubchoo and Charizard

_Pure exposition, leads up to shota and some pretty shoddy techniques for keeping one's job._

* * *

><p>For the purpose of this work all characters are human personifications of Pokémon, a reserved form of Gijinka. While the average Gijinka straddles the line between cosplay and anthro, in the following article displays color clothing and irregularities of the skin and hair to demonstrate that they are, in fact, Pokémon.<p>

These Pokémon are referred to by their label as a first name, in the pretense that there is only one of each of these Pokémon, and that makes their titles, for all intensive purposes, their monikers.

It was October, meaning the chilly weather was coming. This was something that absolutely agreed with Cubchoo.

As always, the poor cub was blighted with a perpetual cold. The sleeves of his oversized jacket were pulled down past his palms, and they got in the way when he occasionally rubbed his nose.

His hoodie was the same icy blue as his hair, falling a bit past his waistline. Though it was already quite cold, he was still wearing the same white shorts as always. His legs were rather pale, probably a result of him avoiding the outdoors on hot summer days, and they tucked into black trimmed white sneakers.

He was treading home after school, his backpack casually over one shoulder. He didn't mind the walks in weather like this, but it often left him with too much time to think, and he really didn't like where his mind wandered.

Trying to keep his wits aligned, he strung his bookbag over the other shoulder and kept his chin up. No way could he get distracted if he looked straight ahead-

"Nnghhhhh," Cubchoo groaned, realizing just how much further he had to travel. Maybe if dad wasn't so busy all the time, he could pick him up once in a while.

Yet, the cub was very much aware of where his father's priorities were. He sighed in defeat.

Beartic was a busy man, important and recognized in his business. To maintain his image and career, many conferences and business trips were made to ensure the continued success of his work. Today he was arranging a meeting of just that sort.

Charizard was an old partner, and a smart man. When the two had first met, the dragon Pokémon was arrogant and defiant. It intimidated Beartic, who was so used to being feared himself that being thrusted into a position of submission was a sizable threat to him. Yet, the solitary way to make things equal between the two of them was to make him a partner, and that would only come when the Ice Bear approached him. To do this, he had to lose his pride and his anger: so he focused his distaste on the vainglorious Toxicroak that kept a poisonous leer on him all hours of the day. _Channel your energy,_ he had told himself: and it worked. Charizard and Beartic found it was delectable fun to be on the top of the corporal food-chain together. The power struggles the transpired between them were substantial and aggressive, but brief and forgettable. When they were cornered, they were cornered together.

Charizard, as it were, was visiting Beartic for a conference that day. It was much later than usual, as they preferred to talk business over coffee, but work had been piling onto the fire-type, and he was finding it near impossible to break away. There were, of course, plenty of things he'd rather be doing.

He sat on his partner's elegant leather sofa, completely collapsed, his suit jacket open and arms strewn limply over the back in a gesture of his exasperation. Though Charizard was quick to annoyance, Beartic knew this was no overstatement and that the dragon was genuinely used up

"It's only two," Remarked the bear, slowly placing some water on the table, "You're such a mess."

Charizard straightened, worn but still proud. He reached for the mug. "Two? It was Noon what seemed ten minutes ago." He raised the mug and gave a menacing smile, convincing him that even though his usually neat combed russet hair was falling in locks onto his forehead, and his jacket was undone by the lapels, that he was absolutely fine and ready for more. Charizard was hard to argue with.

Before they could begin to discuss the proposal, the door opened and was kicked shut. Cubchoo made his way around the corner, and stopped frozen in his tracks in the living room doorway.

"Mr. Charizard…" He murmured immediately, stunned and embarrassed to see him in his parlor.

"Cubchoo," Beartic began, "You Recall-" The youngster didn't give his father time to elaborate, dropping his backpack haphazardly near the closet and tearing off for his room. Beartic sighed gruffly, looking back at his unorganized papers. "I have to talk to him," He said.

At this, Charizard stood.

"Stay," he offered. "This is the last time I'll upset your kid like this, he should know I'm a friend." Beartic studied his

partner. Looking back down at the papers he'd yet to sort, he reluctantly agreed. Charizard offered a reassuring smile before advancing upstairs.

Cubchoo had shut the door with some velocity and put his back to the door. He was _terrified _of Charizard. Regular fire types were fine and well, sure, but this man- this _dragon _ was something else entirely. For the third time, Cubchoo had failed to confront this fear.

Perhaps it was something about his look, his cool analytic blue eyes, or the way they were so deviously in contrast to his fiery copper hair. Everytime the Cub had seen him, he was wearing a suit. This too, intimidated him.

A sharp knock on the door pulled his focus: it was probably Father coming to chastise him for his rudeness. He prepared his defense wily, and opened the door saying;

"Ok Dad, let me stop you right there-"

But the face he met was not his Fathers.

Charizard invited himself in and shut the door.

"Cubchoo," He said plainly.

The bear cub stared, his heart already starting to pound. Heat radiated from this man, heat, energy and fervor. It was difficult for the bear not to catch this scent that fire types gave off- like anger and smoke. He took a step back,

"I'm S-sorry," He stammered without the slightest idea of what he was saying. His one exit was blocked. He was cornered.

"Sorry? You don't have to be sorry for a thing," Said the dragon with an unfathomable expression centered on his face. "That's what I'm here to talk about, really."

Cubchoo didn't understand what this meant, so he focused on putting more distance between them. He backed against the wall, his head hitting the glass of the window. For an insane moment, he considered it as means of escape.

"You see," Charizard said, taking a deliberate step forward, "Your father believes we're on ill terms; you and I."

The moment wasn't passing.

"And I would hate to distress him, seeing as we _have _to work together."

Cubchoo didn't hear a word he was saying, staring straight into his unreadable blue eyes.

Unreadable was a good word for them. They were, in fact, indecipherable. This was a skill and a necessity for Charizard, who had a reoccurring tendency to feel very suddenly and very strongly towards anything that fixated his interest. This had gotten him in trouble in the past.

And now it had spared his partnership with a very valuable ice type, and kept his secret from the two that mattered he keep it from. This kid, Beartic's kid…

Charizard took another step forward and bent down to level with the tyke. He found him positively _irresistible._ The fact that he hadn't attacked him in their prior meetings was a testament to his will and his will alone. He was exercising restraint he had never known before, control he _had _to utilize. Staring into the soft smoky black eyes of this Cub reminded him again of the burden he felt in his presence, the weight he always had felt. There was guilt, hidden somewhere between the rage and lust, and this was for Beartic. He and Charizard had become very close as partners- and the fire- type could scarcely imagine the Ice Bear's face if he could hear the thoughts he conjured whenever in his home, whenever he was near that sweet, silent scent. It was torturous for him, to pretend like nothing was wrong. To pretend and force himself away from something he wanted so badly. Charizard was dreadfully used to the idea of having whatever he wanted; with exception of course, to this bothersome situation he had failed to predict.

Here now, with mere feet in-between them, he managed to maintain composure as he always had and spoke to the bear calmly and carefully.

"But we're well, aren't we?"

Cubchoo nodded slowly, afraid of what would happen if he didn't.

"Do you want to show this to your father by coming downstairs with me?"

He was frozen, his throat tense and eyes fixated. He forced another nod. Charizard straightened to his full, menacing height and grinned. He extended a hand. Cubchoo stared at it, imagining the flames he that might erupt at their contact. He cautiously extended his sleeve cloaked hand, his fingertips peeking underneath. As Charizard grasped the boys hand and pulled him forward, he stumbled a bit, catching himself on the man's suit. His arms became rigid as wood, his small hands gripping the man's lapels. He stared- suspended inches away from the chest of the one Pokémon he feared so much. He practically threw himself backwards, colliding with a harsh crash with the window and sinking downwards to the floor.

Charizard's face displayed a fleeting expression of apprehension before he took a few steps backwards.

"Alright, then," He said, "Come down when you're ready_." No use in forcing the boy,_ He thought; which of course flooded Charizard's mind with the very images he had been trying to avoid. He turned on his heel and returned to his partner, shoulders squared and a void expression on his face.

Beartic looked up complacently, expecting his son along with his companion.

"Charizard?" He questioned casually.

_That kid…_ Charizard thought to himself, watching the floor and toning out the polar bear, _That damn kid… This hasn't happened to me before._

This thought wasn't entirely accurate, but it was certain that this problem _was_ new to the dragon type, and it was difficult to navigate.

"Your boy's feisty, you know that, Beartic?" He laughed at last, disregarding the heavy silence he had incurred by not responding immediately. Beartic's brow slowly furrowed and he faked a grin;

"Right," He said, "That Cub of mine has a lot of energy."

Charizard coughed into his sleeve, a wisp of smoke trailing through the fabric.

"Alright," He said with too much of a nonchalant tone, "We should start, yeah?" Beartic nodded, with a face suggesting he was a step ahead of him. However, Beartic was, for the first time, suspicious of the man he'd come to depend on so much.

He seemed to be hiding something.


	4. Croconaw, Bayleef and Quilava

_Pure exposition, Johto. Content is mostly fluff, with some undue hostility._

* * *

><p>Quilava was very vocal. When he started to shudder, stammer, gasp: he would bury his face into sheets and pillow to muffle it, it embarrassed him. Croconaw, however, loved it. If he weren't so intent on keeping their relationship a secret, he would have done anything he could have to keep that head up and mouth open. It just so happened that the Big Jaw Pokémon was fiercely protective of their roommate Bayleef. If it weren't for the fact he was often on the top floor of their complex visiting Grovyle they'd never have time alone.<p>

RipeLum Residence hosted a whole trove of Pokémon. It was an attractive domicile if price was an issue and space was not. This was the best quite a few of the locals could do. It was a step above meager, anyhow. Nobody really complained.

Croconaw stood at the counter scrubbing clean a Poffin tin that Bayleef had wrecked in his most recent phase of interest. The timid Quilava was perched on their recycled sofa in the other room, staring absentmindedly through the picture window that faced the south side of the city. He took a tentative glance at the water Pokémon, watching him work from behind.

Croconaw wore a blue hoodie that he kept open to show the pale yellow t-shirt he wore underneath. The jacket itself cut at the elbows into the same fallow color as his undershirt, mismatched shapes of blue positioned dotted about the sleeves. The zipper of this particular article was the same red as a very conspicuous streak of red in his hair, which he always kept brushed to the side and covering the corner of his eye. His face was intimidating at rest; he had pointed eyes and a strong jaw, which he often ground in thought. If one was familiar with Croconaw, however, they found they could tell easily when he was being warm in contrast to one of his foul moods. Croconaw was definitely prone to foul moods.

He was rather heavyset, with round cheeks and a broad torso, which he appreciated. He believed his size made him threatening, and he was proud of that. He turned and made eye-contact with the Volcano Pokémon, making him blush and turn away. He chuckled to himself; the poor thing was still afraid of him? He set down the dishes and approached the fire type, standing directly in front of him, arms set firmly on his hips. Quilava avoided eye contact for a moment, but when the water type made it obvious he wasn't going anywhere he looked tentatively up.

"Cona?" He murmured. Croconaw put his hands on either side of Quilava's head and grinned widely, lowering until their noses were an inch apart. He took a hand and casually brushed a bit of Quilava's unkempt hair from his eyes. One of these days, he was sure they'd get along. He was rather certain he'd hurt him once or twice when they were together- but surely he wouldn't keep this attitude for just that? He took a step back to regard him. His hair was unusual, a navy blue with two long tresses trailing past his ears that bore an orange and red color- like fire. Aside from that he had bright, burgundy eyes that projected his emotions very lucidly. They seemed frozen as they held eye-contact, Quilava looked like he had stopped breathing altogether.

There was a creak from the door, and the hiatus was broken. Croconaw turned around and raised his brow- it was Bayleef.

"Oh," The leaf type said as if he hadn't expected them to be here. He had a fresh case of Poffins to make up for the one's he'd ruined earlier. They were in all sorts of flavors, with special consideration to Aspear berries, as they were Croconaw's favorite. "Hey you two. I brought these by."

He was as happy-go-lucky as ever, and coupled with being naïve and gentlehearted he was a regular softie. Croconaw approached the grass type and took the box, giving him only the slightest of smiles to communicate his happiness. Quilava unwrapped his arms from his legs and looked up, watching Bayleef as he situated himself in the kitchen. He boasted a full head of cream colored hair that complimented his carmine eyes. Light colors, being his favorite, also comprised his clothes. He wore a loose yellow T that turned green at the rim, the same color of his capris. Bayleef's prized possession is what finished off his look, a riviere of bright green florets that formed a ring around his neck, resting perfectly on collar.

Croconaw set the box down and switched on the stove, he was sure his roommates could do with a cup of tea. Quilava watched the exchange plaintively, hugging a couch cushion to his chest. He met Croconaw's eye again and it glinted dangerously. Another reminder of how Croconaw felt towards his fire type friend.

Quilava knew that he was hungry for him, what he didn't understand was why he kept it a secret. The Crocodile was proud, he knew this… But he didn't understand what lengths he would go to in order to convince his favorite grass type he was the same guardian he was when they were pre-evolved. Quilava, conversely, only knew Croconaw to be a bully.

The water type, being stubborn and hostile, was more than Quilava could handle. By moving in with the duo, he had bitten off more than he could chew. To make matters worse, he couldn't fathom what had occurred in their past to make such an unlikely couple so close.

Unbeknownst to him, it was in his best interests not to.

"Hey, Cona," Said Bayleef lightheartedly as he prepared three mugs with their favorite brews.

"Mnn," hummed Croconaw in response absent-mindedly.

"I hope you don't mind, Prinplup has nothing to do today so I invited her over."

"Do what you like," Returned the water type, feigning his usual indifference. Even to the Pokémon that mattered most to him, he found it difficult to express himself outright. Pride got in the way of everything.

"She'll be here around noon," Bayleef continued, watching the water-type's face for a reaction that didn't come. He looked back to the mugs with a pressed smile. He would have to take Croconaw as he was.


End file.
